As the Silencers Broke the Silence
by nin-anna
Summary: Takao Kazunari witnesses his life being shattered at the hands of an infamous mafia hit squad. A broken child failed by a broken system, justice never given but only forcefully taken, he grows to become what he despises just to attain that justice. Fate, however, has other plans. [Underworld!AU.]
1. Chapter 1 - Prelude

_(I really should not be writing this. Not only do I have other fan fiction projects that I would prefer to finish beforehand, I am also extremely busy with various commitments. But I had to put this out for it has been scratching the insides of my mind for a few weeks now. I am planning to continue to write it, albeit at a relatively slow pace, just so that I can distil each portion and achieve a more satisfying result than my previous works. I hope you like it and I am very much sorry in advance for any mistake, do let me know if you see any. Do not worry, despite the dark[?] tone of the opening, it will be light-hearted too at many times... At last I hope so. And it will not have a bad ending either, even if it will surely not be a Disney-like one..._

_Reviews and criticism are much desired and very welcome.)_

* * *

The weeping and wailing scratched his ears violently, if he could cry, he would cry and perhaps it would help ease the torturous pain that was fast suppressing his breath and squeezing his heart out. He could not cry though. In shock, only aware of the great horror that had tightened around his body and soul so firmly, and the pain, the unbearable ache that was fast spreading under his skin. He heard that sound again then, the sound he had first heard only about ten minutes ago alongside the initial screams of his mother. He never heard his father, even though he should have been with her...

That sound... it was something very peculiar, nothing like anything he had ever heard before. Almost like a whistle but definitely not a whistle. It was not loud but it was piercing.

His mother's weeping and sobbing died down with that sound, never to be heard again...

About five minutes after the strange sound that had sliced through his ears and left a pure silence in its wake, he could not help but crack his eyes open a little, not because he was ready to face the nightmare but he could not bear the harrowing uncertainty that not knowing brought... Even if to the full darkness of the closer, he wanted to open his eyes. A burning sensation quickly wrapped around his eyeballs even at this slight exposure however. His retina almost consciously refusing to see, refusing to acknowledge the mayhem that could be revealed. Realising the gap between the doors of the closet, his breath hitched silently. Surely, it was no more than half a centimetre but it allowed a sight into the carnage that had swallowed his household already and surely it would allow a sight of his hidden self to any perpetrators.

Perpetrators...

What caught his eyes at first was unexpected, however.

They looked like two lazy fireflies stuck to a tree. A colder colour than the near-amber greenish hue of the insects in question though, a glow of emerald, almost. As his eyes adapted to the light he could see more and more of the face that adorned these mesmerising green orbs. 

_16? _

_17? _

_18?_

At most 18 years old was the boy in front of him, at the other side of the room. No older than himself for sure. The baby fat of his face was still there and his boyish features had not yet matured. The pieces of emerald almost seemed glittering to him, despite the eyeglasses and the indifferent gaze that seemed to be part of them by nature. As his eyes took the features of the face of the boy, of the killer, of the killer of his parents, he was especially struck by the way the thin, white, long fingers held the gun with a long silencer so gracefully and almost characteristically. It was professional and somehow the cold black metal fit so perfectly to the hand of this boy. How was that possible?

_Should children ever look so delicately appropriate with a gun in their hand?_

He blinked then.

He blinked because he realised the gaze on him. In that split second his sight travelled up, like a moth to a flame, like a moth to a flame that would consume it, for sure if the gaze was on him, it meant that he did not have much long to live... And he burnt.

He was consumed.

The stoic glance of the killer was on him. He could not tear his eyes away. His eyelids moved higher and higher and despite the burning sensation, and despite the fact that he was looking at the eyes of a killer, a killer who had just killed his parents, he could not tear away his eyes. His breath hitched. Silently.

How long did he have to live now? Surely he was spotted. Why was he still looking? Was this the end? Would they torture him? Or would they kill him off quickly? Would he be able to hear the same strange sound, the whistle of the angel of death as the bullet bore inside him? In shock, he could not turn away his gaze, he could not close his eyes, but his mind was in chaos of an impending, an inevitable death by murder and then he saw.

He saw the boy with the green eyes and green hair and a black gun with a silencer, the killer of his parents to just turn away his gaze. So naturally. Like the way your gaze falters to a stray cat while walking in the street and eventually you turn your eyes back to its initial target and in this case he had become the stray cat. The killer did not seem to mind him. The killer did not seem to care for the fact that there was a witness and this witness had seen his face. The killer did not seem to care whether or not he was alive or dead at all. The killer did not seem to care at all whether or not Takao Kazunari existed.

_Could this be true?_

His shock had only grew and his fear had only rose in his chest when he heard a shout that he could not make out the contents of very well, but he saw the boy with the green eyes and the green hair to nod towards where the shouting come from.

_What is going on?_

Had others also realised that he was still alive? And perhaps they cared? Perhaps this boy also cared? Perhaps he had acted so indifferently a moment ago to not scare and cause Takao to do something crazy in panic? The thoughts raced in his mind but all his eyes saw was how skilfully the killer put the gun to the holster inside his jacket and moved away calmly.

He just walked away. Just like that. Takao blinked in silence as his ears registered the quiet footsteps of at least 3 people and then the shutting of the main door of the house. They had left.

Killers had left.

Surely this was a joke.

Surely the killer had seen him.

Surely he would come back for him.

Surely he would tell his comrades.

Surely they would kill him.

Surely he would kill him.

Then, _why? _Why did nobody come back in the next two hours as he stayed put without a single noise, inside the closet?

Why did they not kill him?

Why did Takao Kazunari survive?


	2. Chapter 2

_(**A/N:** I actually have a good idea where this will go at the end, but I don't have such a good idea how it will go there so please bear with me. I hope it is entertaining thus far? Please, do tell. Reviews keep me going and teach me the most!)_

* * *

It was too good to be true. 

Years passed in agony, slowly and painstakingly weaving the web of revenge that would take him God knows where at the final stop of the fate's ride... and then suddenly he is offered a chance to almost teleport to his destination. It was too good to be true.

The days after his parents' death had been the worst, facing the reality that his parents – his adoptive parents to be technically correct – were not the ordinary folk he thought they were but instead members of a small but crucially positioned yakuza clan. The daughter of the Master and her husband, the right hand of the Master. The cliché story. However, the cliché fell apart at their physical inability to conceive a child and their reluctance to separate. An adoption. A small family life carefully established in parallel to their rather dangerous lifestyle. If he had to be honest with himself he would have to admit that he had started realising that not all was what it seemed. Late night calls for his father. Vague descriptions of the work he led often simply summarised to "import and export".

Still certainly, it was a shock. For all he knew his parents were quite mundane, a salary-man and a housewife, almost leading the idyllic bourgeois life, hovering with care over their only son, adopted but could not be loved any greater even if thick blood bound them. Truthfully, despite the shock, Takao did not care. He had been left alone, simply discarded to the streets at the tender age of four and his adoptive parents had taken him, given him a warm home, teaching him any and all nice and good things he knew about life and himself. He learnt how to smile thanks to them in that mediocre house that was turned into a bloody nightmare so easily one random day.

It did not matter who truly they were, whose daughter or lieutenant they were, if they were dirty or clean... they were his parents. Rest were only details.

He quickly had to learn that this was true solely for his point of view. The police stopped caring the moment they learnt the true identities of the victims. They were further pushed to complete disregard, the moment he had assisted the criminal sketcher to sketch out a portrait of the one killer he had been miraculously lucky enough to see yet survive. Then, he could not understand the fear in the eyes of any police officer who dared laying eyes on the portrait. He could not understand why they had asked him to describe the young man responsible for the deaths of his parents again and again. It always resulted in the same picture... Hushed murmurs of "_Teikou_" and its "_inhumane assassins_" were all he heard here and there in the numerous visits he made to the police station but he could not give it any meaning then. He would probably continue to blindly trust the system and try again and again relentlessly if one day the investigator responsible to solve the crime that had turned his whole life upside down confessed:

"_There is nothing we can do. The case will be closed without any leads in a month._"

Why? Did it not matter to them that a crime had occurred? So what if it was a skirmish or a tactical hit related to the shady dealings of yakuza? Were the victims not people? Were they not his parents?

It was almost tragicomic now that he thought about it – his story, that is. The young adoptee learning the secret identities of his adopted parents, being failed by the system, led astray by the mesmerising songs of the Sirens of vengeance. It was tragicomic in how cliché and disgustingly stupid it sounded. But it had been his reality for over eight years now. Close to a decade. He had left school. He had found contacts in yakuza, thanks to his parents family. Never joined – not that he was invited, either. Honestly he was disgusted by them as much as he was disgusted by the police. The contacts did help though, in training, in gathering materials and information needed.

Years spent in slowly cooking up the sweet dish of revenge and then out of blue one day somebody mysterious decides to serve it to him, on a silver platter too.

He had never imagined that the side job he was doing partially to hone his talents and to be up-to-date with the ongoings of the underbelly of the country would offer him the chance of a lifetime. A mysterious contract, ordering the deaths of several important members of Rakuzan group from bottom to top, and finally at the end, the head of its head, Akashi Seijuurou.

Akashi Seijuurou, the man who had singlehandedly controlled the once legendary assailants of Teikou. Changed sides after his initial camaraderie broke apart for reasons nobody knew. It did not matter to Takao how or why, he wanted Akashi Seijuurou. He wanted him _almost_ more than anyone, anything for certainly he had been the one who either led the incursion into his dear home years ago or at least commanded it remotely. "Almost" was present though for a specific reason; an exceptional person he wanted to put his hands around the neck of, even more than Akashi Seijuurou.

It would become true. He was so close to it now. Yet still... the looming opportunity simply seemed too good to be true.

While part of his brain was busy reminiscing and trying to infer any hidden intents in the extraordinary job he had received, part of his brain continuously scanned the café he was situated in. His customer was adamant about the job being done in a pair, claiming that he had chosen the best candidates in the field for this series of executions. A few names did cross Takao's mind, all known only by nicknames or distasteful handles that stood instead of names, ruthless individuals whom Takao was not sure if he could go along with. Not that he was not ruthless, but over the years he had developed a rather refined taste for it, he would like to think. No children, for example. He did not pay special clemency to women though, he was very much an egalitarian and despised sexism like that. No innocents though and his definition of innocents included bystanders and any witnesses, which meant each assignment had to be undertaken carefully and far away from the possible presence of any witnesses. He was known for his meticulous way of doing things and he was proud for being known as such. He absolutely abhorred the notion of "collateral damage" for both ethical and practical reasons: they always convoluted the work at hand and left even more traces and clues back to the assailant.

He would have preferred to be given the name or at least a picture of his partner but things had to be done the other way around, his own name and resume was given apparently to his partner in advance. His customer had to put it rather bluntly,

"_I admire your skill set and that is why you are assigned with this important task. But he is far exceeding the skill set of almost all in the field. He has the upper hand. It would not be proper otherwise._"

_Proper my ass..._ Takao mumbled inside.

The sooner he could start the work was better, his palms were itching and he could feel the enticing scent of the revenge inviting him over. It was then, the near supranatural eyesight that he was so proud of notified him of the intruder. He felt a freezing chill in the middle of his spine; a fear he had not felt in years, not since that faithful night where he had come face to face with death but death had only spared him an apathetic glance... thankfully.

_Why is he here?_

He could not even ask the question properly in his mind, as his body slowly motioned to an assault mode, a "what if" germinated spontaneously in the middle of his stream of thought.

It could not be. But then, truthfully, it was too good to be true, wasn't it?

The man so apathetic to the crowd that was packed inside the small café made beeline to his table in slow but sure steps, his movement swiftly guided almost with some sort of precognition. When he stopped in front of the small round table and Takao was both incredible ready and incredibly unready for this fateful or rather ill-fated meeting, he spoke, lushly green orbs devoid of any emotion but a profound disinterest, his voice sterile and cold and extremely sharp,

"Midorima Shintarou. You must be Takao Kazunari. I do not want to work with you either but discarding you simply for that reason would be very irrational, so _please_, _behave_."

Takao then swallowed silently as he moved away the small gun he was holding, invisible to other patrons but in a perfect angle to claim the face of the man towering above him on the other side of the table.

"Takao Kazunari, indeed." he laboriously pronounced to the man in front of him...

To the man he craved murdering the most in the whole wide world.

* * *

.

.

.

_He must remember me._

A mixture of contrasting and spectacularly wild emotions flowed through his veins, leading an invasion from his heart to every corner of his body, his mind in what resembled a delirious confusion even though he was very much conscious, very much awake.

_He must remember me._

The man in front of him though, Midorima Shintarou, calmly and silently tasted his recently served cappuccino, gracefully wiping away the slight kiss the froth left on his lips with his handkerchief. His every movement seemed well-measured and well-defined and Takao could not help wandering his eyes on his most prized target, taking in, noting down his every gesture. Not that there were many, the first thing he realised was just how stoic a man Midorima Shintarou was.

"I do not like working in groups."

_Huh...?_ _Not believable coming from a man who came to be his current infamous self thanks to a very, very successful assassination squad, to put it bluntly. _That's what Takao thought but did not say. He instead said;

"I see."

_He must remember me._

Why was he not saying anything about the very fact that the young witness he had not killed many years ago was now sitting in front of him as a possible partner in crime to take down his old boss? This did not make any sense.

"However I was given an ultimatum and regardless of how distasteful it is, we will have to make this... this... _this thing_ work. They gave me your profile and I read it out of courtesy but I will not be needing you. I would very much prefer if you stayed out of things and simply got paid."

Takao's thoughts were interrupted then. Not only did the person in front of him did not show any signs of knowing him but this... this offer? What was he scheming? Well, the two could scheme. Takao was certain he could scheme better, actually; so he wore one of his best poker faces, adorned with a knowing smirk and all,

"I would not call myself the most hard-working professional out there but I have to say that I very much want to actively take part in this series of missions, so I must politely decline your generous request."

Midorima's eyebrows pinched very slightly out of irritation, these minuscule gestures on an otherwise face barren of any and all emotion... almost impossible for an ordinary person to catch but when it came to observation Takao was brilliantly extraordinary.

"Fine but even if you want to actively take part I do not think there will be any need or occasion."

"Well, we will see about that."

Another pinch of eyebrows. It was almost entertaining, to the point that Takao felt the knot of million hot and heavy emotions in his stomach relax at least a little. Silence ensued then for a bit as Midorima finished up his coffee without any words. The thought – "He must remember me" – clawed the walls of Takao's mind, itching him to find a clue to it or just outright ask it and be done with it. He chose to remain silent, to see this scheme to its end.

Not much came at the end: Midorima moved up after finishing his coffee and left behind a bill alongside a card – too much for the single cup he drank, too much for any cups of coffee that could be bought in this little café.

"I guess we will see each other then, much unfortunately. Have a nice day."

Takao rose an eyebrow, half in disbelief half in uncertainty, was the man really leaving? Perhaps he was setting up for a sudden attack? But no, there were no sudden attacks, no "gotcha"s, the man simply moved away, out of the little but much crowded café. After a few moments spent trying to figure out just what had happened, Takao could not resist taking the card left behind – holding it with a napkin just in case it was poisoned. Then a few other moments were spent analysing the card and trying to ensure that nothing was wrong with it and there really did not seem anything sinister about it. A white card with dark green text on it. A telephone number.

When Takao called the number, much later in the day when he had finally gathered enough courage, there was no answer to his rings. However, just after he hung up, he received a text message from the number.

A hotel's address. 


	3. Chapter 3

(_**A/N:** Short chapter but to give you a better glance at the pace and the mood of the story. As it becomes obvious with this chapter, I am actually hoping it to keep it up pretty light-hearted most of the time and occasionally diving into the darker aspects of the story. Hoping this will give a lively bittersweet taste. How is it so far? Reviews are much welcomed and desired, like always.)_

* * *

"You sure you don't need any help Shin-chan?"

"Do not insult my skills. And please stop with the stupid nickname."

"Ah you are so not fun..."

Takao sighed and leaned back a little on the armchair he was sitting, carefully angled and set close to the window, binoculars still on his face watching the stoic greenhead waiting for their target.

It was not that Midorima needed any help, it was another small fry that they were ordered to discard as part of the operation before moving on to greater targets. It had all been small fries so far – one and a half month spent on calculated hits at strategical positions among the lower cadres of the Rakuzan and its allies. Takao had mostly been occupied with intelligence and reconnaissance and Midorima did the actual clean up, not that Takao minded, he was not particularly fond of murder. There were only few he truly wanted to murder and would take great pleasure in murdering, one of them being his current partner.

It was almost a distant dream how both excited and confused he was in their first – or technically their second – meeting, now just six weeks later he was able to mock him. He had to admit that the first week had been especially excruciating, constantly calculating in his mind what Midorima might be scheming, sleeping with two guns and a knife instead of the usual single knife, and fantasising about killing the other man in his sleep or having nightmares about being killed by him in his sleep. Finally, after a week of deliberation and half sleepless nights he had confronted the man called Midorima Shintarou during the other's training. The greenhead seemed to be adamant about his training routine every day – Takao would later learn that he even chose very expensive hotels only to ensure easy access to a well furnished gym. It was ridiculous, yet as he had recently learnt many things about Midorima Shintarou were indeed ridiculous.

"_I do not make a record of every person I kill but only the ones deemed important. Your parents must have been not that significant._"

This was Midorima Shintarou's response to Takao's accusation. Midorima had not even answered his question on why his life was spared, he had simply queried:

"_More importantly, do you wish to kill me?_"

Yes he had. He had wished to kill him oh so deeply, so fervently for years. And he revealed this to Midorima right there and then, ready to be attacked just as he had. He had not received any sudden attack but instead a smile or rather a smirk, something very alien to the almost permanently neutral face of Midorima. It seemed as though he gained pleasure from the idea.

"Good. Feel free to try. But I must warn you, I don't have time or interest in your little games of probable revenge. I have to finish our current mission and remove Akashi, that is my goal. You will not live long if you become an obstacle to that."

The next week had been spent on planning and strategising and continuously losing oneself to bottomless pits of self-doubt. At the end Takao came to the conclusion that Midorima did not see him as much of a threat to dispose for now and Akashi was a much greater threat than Midorima in terms of physical obstacles and abilities. It was very simple, really, he could postpone murdering Midorima till after Akashi was done. It would be better too, for the hate he felt against Akashi was perhaps greater but the hate he felt towards Midorima was surely more intimate. It would do him good to leave Midorima as the last, to take pleasure in setting up a careful trap, enjoy killing him slowly and sensuously. One thing that was puzzling to him and wished to uncover the truth of as soon as he could was why Midorima wanted Akashi dead.

Five weeks into the future, and he still had no idea why Midorima was keen on going against and even killing Akashi. He had tried to open the topic, quite subtly too as he was talented like that, however one thing he had learnt was that it was hard to make Midorima talk and not just about a particular topic either; it was hard to make Midorima talk at all. Per the wishes of their client regarding security and privacy of the job, they were spending most of their time together, living in the same hotel rooms, having their meals together... However Midorima preferred reading novels or listening to music or working out than small talk, making it incredibly hard to gather any information. Still, they were better than before, Takao would like to think, just two weeks ago when he had first called Midorima as "_Shin-chan_" much colloquial and too cute of a nickname for a 195 cm tall stoic contract killer, the greenhead had very bluntly threatened him with murder for the first time in weeks. He did not go through with it, much to Takao's benefit.

Calling him names, learning his weaknesses, teasing his awkward habits (and God, there were so many, from his obsession over horoscopes and chance and lucky items to the meticulous way he fussed over his body, especially his fingers)... an insightful comfort was growing between them, Takao wanted to believe, and he also wanted to believe that things he would learn and process thanks to this relaxed relation between them would help him a lot in the future when the time came to kill his partner. It was morbid and it was an excellent strategy.

"You wanna grab some Korean food? I am craving kimchi."

"..."

"Come on, are you going to ignore me? You cannot ignore me. You must be feeling lonely and bored already, Shin-chan, I mean you have been waiting there for this lazy-ass guy for how long now, 2 hours? Want me to sing to cheer you up? To dispel your boredom?"

"Can't you shut up?"

"No, I cannot, I will not shut up and leave you into your boredom and then you will fall asleep and- oh! Here he comes! At your three o'clock."

Midorima did not say anything and Takao simply held his breath, he knew when to shut up and _this_ was the time. A moment later, through his binoculars he was able to see their target waver and fall down on his back. When he turned his sight to Midorima back, he realised that his partner had already started taking apart his equipment.

_Always so neat and fast... How does he manage it?_

"So... we are having Korean?"

"..."

"You are _so not_ fun."

"..."

"Ah if only I could change my partner and get partnered up with a lively person who actually did at least try to enjoy life a little bit..."

Takao giggled at his own teasing, putting away the binoculars in his bag, gathering his things... They still had one more job at Osaka, but it would be handled tomorrow morning and for tonight they would change the hotels; Midorima had already booked a room at InterContinental – the man sure loved his luxury. A few minutes later and he was already out the door, moving to their previously set meeting point. It was only then through his earpiece he heard his partner's voice, ever so irritated but calm,

"You eat too much kimchi."

"It tastes good!"

"Whatever. I don't know a Korean place around here though. You will have to find one."

Takao smiled,

"No worries Shin-chan."

An exhausted sigh later, in a voice dripping in poison it came,

"You are insufferable Takao Kazunari. And stop calling me with that stupid nickname."


	4. Chapter 4

(_**A/N:** Another short chapter setting up the tone between these two and just giving more glimpses into each other's personality. I really like the dual dynamic between Midorima and Takao where at certain settings Midorima can be considered to be the more "acceptable" one by the society and Takao can be shunned -and how this would be utterly nonsensical to Midorima- and how at certain other settings Takao can be considered more "acceptable" and Midorima shunned for his quirky ways - and just how mad this would make Takao and I tend to feel that he has a protective side when it comes to the greenhead. Well, this is basically me writing to satisfy my own headcanon in a way so... hope it is still not so bad ^^ How is the story going so far for you? Do let me know ^^_)

* * *

They had executed the job in early morning and spent rest of the day packing and tying any and all loose ends. Equipment already cleaned up and disposed properly, it was a suitable time for eating a bit before leaving. Or rather, Midorima had finally gave in to Takao's pleas to eat with a condition: they were not going to eat Korean food.

While Takao expected a casual dinner somewhere near by, perhaps even at a fast food joint, Midorima took the raven haired man to their hotel's signature restaurant, _Contemporary French Pierre_. Takao lingered at the door for a minute, unsure.

_What is he thinking?_

"You are not coming?"

Midorima seemed more puzzled than he was.

"You do realise that I am wearing a pair of ripped, skinny black jeans with an old red t-shirt don't you?"

"And?"

"And? I don't think I would be exactly _cut out_ for this place."

"I don't understand why you should be 'cut out' for a place in the first place. Plus, _it is just a restaurant_."

And Midorima entered, already welcomed and being taken to his table. Takao, after a sigh, decided to go in as well even though he slightly regretted this decision due to the immensely disapproving gazes of other patrons that started boring onto him the moment he entered. Growing into an adult without parents and spending all his time trying to hone his skills in murder, one could say his relationship with society's standards and norms had never been good. Especially in regards to etiquette. He liked breaking it more than following it but the reaction of those to him breaking it was both amusing and distressing to him. He had always particularly disliked being judged, though his ways of countering this were very diverse. As he moved to the table Midorima was seated at, the greeter politely stopped him,

"Were you looking for someone, sir?"

Though his words and gestures were very polite, tone of his voice was disrespectful enough to send the right message: _What the hell do you think you are doing here?_

"He is with me."

The greeter's eyes grew huge at that and he turned to give a one-over, Midorima was completely unperturbed against the sudden attention though.

"Pardon me, then, this way please."

As he led Takao to the table, barely a few steps away, his eyes carefully sized up the young man's stature; spending a few milliseconds more on certain details, like Takao's black painted nails or his rear side which was rather well-defined in his current choice of attire...

_Oh, does he think... I am an escort? Or an unruly paramour, perhaps?_

Wouldn't be the first time he was mistaken for an escort. Not that he had never been one; there had been times he had been in dire need of some easy money... and sex was sometimes easier than killing. _Sometimes_ being the key word there.

Before leaving the two, the greeter gave an ugly side glance at Midorima, very much unlike the way he had first received his tall and handsome customer, this time his eyes only showed distaste and disapproval. Not that Takao minded, in actuality, seeing how disinterested and probably unaware Midorima was to the sudden change in his value was rather entertaining to Takao, to the point that a small smile of joy curved his lips upwards.

Midorima truly did not mind, it seemed.

So once the middle-aged man left, though their table still very much under scrutiny by quite a few other patrons and staff, Takao could not contain it any longer and chuckled almost hysterically,

"Why are you laughing?"

"You don't even realise it, do you?"

"Realise what?"

"How people judge you?"

"Obviously not. Their ideas do not bound me, so why care about them?"

"Wow, I would call you care-free if your oh so graceful fingers were not sitting, right in front of me now, carefully taped _'just in case'_."

"Judgements of people are different than judgements of fate, you can never escape the latter if caught. Thus, I am cautious about it and not the former. I don't see a paradox here."

"There really is none." Takao uttered and just then their waiter came with the drink list and the menu. He was much younger compared to the greeter and instead of scorn, a hint of curiosity glinted in his eyes. Takao could not help himself then: while Midorima was very interested and full of questions about the possible dining options, Takao gave all sorts of gazes ranging from playfully lustful to innocently bored, sighing loudly every few seconds. The poor young man was unsure on how to act, his attention being grabbed by Takao's antics only to be harshly reprimanded for his lack of attentiveness by Midorima, who was as strict about choosing the right wine as he was about choosing the right silencer – that is to say, _very_. When the wine was chosen and Midorima decided, rather curtly, for both them to try the tasting menu, waiter finally left and this only served as the trigger to make Takao burst into laughter, though he did try his best to contain himself and keep his voice low.

"Don't glare at me..."

"Will you continue laughing like this? What is your problem? Is it because we are not eating Korean food?"

Midorima's innocent question thus only fuelled Takao's laughter.

"I cannot believe you don't get it..."

"Get what?"

"The predicament we are in, right now."

"And that is?"

"They probably think you are my sugar daddy. Hmm you look like one. A hot one too. Maybe a heir or one of those computer-geek-turned-billionaires."

"Sugar what? What is that?"

"You don't know what a sugar daddy is?! Oh Shin-chan, what are you? A Virgin?"

At that Midorima's pale cheeks donned a slight pink which almost instantaneously enlarged Takao's eyes in surprise and slowed down his laughter and instead added an amused smirk to his lips.

"It seems you would rather being served bullets to your loud mouth than tasteful wonders of a fine cuisine."

Takao giggled,

"But if you act so coyly it will only further entice me, you know? Shin-chan?"

Midorima's scowl deepened,

"I was not arbitrarily threatening you, I was telling you what the next step would be if you insist in your stupidity."

"Fine fine, ah can never take a joke. Now I am curious why it got to you so much." Takao relented with mocking "puffs" and "huffs" of caprice. A few seconds of silence, Takao hoped Midorima would continue but of course, he was not, so he took the ball again despite the very real risk of facing Midorima's wrath.

"A 'sugar daddy' is a rich man who showers his lover, who is often much younger, with gifts and wealth in exchange for sexual favours or a relationship."

Midorima almost choked on the water he was sipping then,

"Preposterous! We are almost the same age and you are not a woman!"

Takao giggled,

"You know, people do not necessarily form heterosexual relationships. And yes, you are not much older than me but you sure look much richer – and are probably much richer. Here we are at a French restaurant, you with your a hundred thousand yen worth Armani suit and aristocratic ways and me with my... wild little boy-toy look."

Midorima's eyebrow rose in part surprise and part discontent,

"If people are making assumptions about our relation, or about you or me for that matter, simply based on where we eat, how we eat, what we wear, what is the price of the things we wear... I don't see such people or assumptions worthy of consideration or respect. It is preposterous."

Perhaps it was how serious Midorima's tone was or how assured he looked as he finished his sentences, but somehow Takao found a small seed of respect germinating inside him for the emerald eyed man. He did not like this, for only respect he would or could ever bear for this man had to be the respect for his skill in what he did: murder. Respect of any other sort would surely complicate things. And Takao did not want to complicate things. But he could not help himself either, so he said,

"That is a nice way of thinking Shin-chan."

Their waiter came with the first service of the night then.


	5. Chapter 5

(_**A/N:**__ And rest of the gang finally make an appearance. We are back from bickering duo to... bickering duo with plot development, basically. I hope you like this and if you are reading, please drop by a comment to let me know what you liked, what you did not like, and if it is going too slow or too fast for you. I am having a little bit of a trouble deciding the pace with this one.)_

* * *

"He goes to his mistress' house every week on Wednesdays and Sundays. If he drops somewhere to have a drink beforehand, he arrives at her place late at night, never before 10 PM. However if he decides to go sober, he arrives earlier in the evening, usually between 7 PM and 8 PM. There are three main routes he uses, my intel suggests that it is highly likely he will be using route A, marked red here, if he is coming from their headquarters; route B, marked blue, is likely to be used if he is coming from the clubs he is responsible for in Ginza; route C is the one he uses if he is coming from his own house, it is marked green here, I doubt he will use this one though, he has not been going home regularly in the last two weeks... Marital problems probably, which is like completely understandable, he has a steady mistress after all and I am not even counting the dozens of women he sleeps around with... And when I say dozens I am not exaggerating you know? How is this man even still married?! Like doesn't his wife cause a commotion? And I mean-"

"We are not paparazzi or marriage counsellors, Takao. Apart from the needless commentary on his marriage, your analysis seems to be quite through though..."

"Obviously, like always. But it is especially important and tricky with this one you know, because most of the areas he frequents are crowded. We will have to find that spot where he is least likely to have company and well, his mistress' house is the best bet I'd say. Of course we will have to get her out of the house as well but I don't think that will be much trouble."

"We don't need full isolation."

"We _do_ need full isolation."

Midorima sighed and leaned back in his chair, observing his partner, Takao could not help but realise how this was becoming more of a trend in the last two weeks...

"Your habit of executing a job in complete absence of anybody else but the target is rather troublesome and meaningless. It really complicates things."

"But it is needed."

"Why? Because you perhaps in some subconscious level identify with witnesses, since you yourself was witness to a murder once and was spared? Is that why you want to avoid killing them and thus avoid them completely? Or is it a more conscious fear that if you cannot somehow kill a specific witness they will vow revenge like you yourself did?"

Takao was speechless at Midorima's barrage of questions not only because he had not pondered much about the subject before and thus these newly found questions were not easily answerable in his mind, but also because it was very rare for Midorima to interrogate his choices so intricately like this. He thought about it for a few moments as Midorima returned back to silently observing him, sipping from his cappuccino.

"Maybe."

"What?"

"Maybe you are right. Maybe you are not. I am not sure. You see I have never truly thought about it. What you said makes sense but I don't think we can interpret an adult's behaviour so easily. Regardless of how I may be personally compelled to act as such, it is a fact that absence of witnesses not only means much fewer loose ends but also less clean up work, more controlled environment... Rationally speaking, it is desirable."

There was definite truth in what he said. There was also a definite motivation of not wishing to discuss the finer roots of his way of thinking and living with Midorima. Regardless, the moment he made the argument of "reason", he knew he had won.

"That I would certainly not deny. But what is desirable is not always what is possible."

"Oh... Shin-chan... Are you perhaps suggesting that you are not competent enough to create a work environment up to par with your desires and expectations?"

The mocking tone was the last nail. He had definitely won.

"I – I obviously can! I do anything and everything humanly possible for my actions to deliver the desired results and thus Fate always favours me. I have no such doubts."

"Then we have no problem!" Takao smiled cheekily, and added with the same mocking tone,

"Oh but you know, I never took you for one who would actually be into... psychoanalysis."

"I am not... necessarily."

"What else do you ponder about me? Well, my daddy and mummy issues probably but that's not much of a mystery is it? You are pretty much to blame for that anyway. But I don't know, do you analyse my behaviour on other aspects? Would you like to discuss the possible reasons why I may be such a fan of _long barrels_? What deviancy might be a factor in my adoration of AS50's?"

Midorima blinked a couple of times and Takao realised that his apparent confusion meant a much real ignorance at the insinuation... This blissful or rather confused ignorance did not last long though as Midorima's face donned a crimson shade. For this specific reaction, Takao had spoken as such anyway. Since he had found out about how easily Midorima could get flustered on certain topics, he could not resist touching upon them now and then and it was a miraculous sight to witness, how the stoic pale face donned an almost childishly innocent and timid blush.

"Sh-shut up. I am in no way interested in any of your deviancies."

The problem though was that Midorima was well trained to adapt to any situation and thus these rare flickers of emotion would quickly cease and Midorima's faint blush would drown in neutral paleness, leaving behind no legacy of the fact that it had happened in the first place... Takao sighed contentedly nevertheless, he had witnessed it. It was interesting how a man with so few emotions could be so expressive at time and at the oddest things; it was a hint of just how much this man contained, probably, many kinds of emotions and passion and experiences. Takao was thirsty to know more. To discover more. For it was both pleasurable and beneficial: the more he knew about his prey, the better the hunt would be.

It was when he was lost in such thoughts that he first realised the cold glance their table received. A man had entered the small bistro with so little presence that Takao's ever present peripheral sight monitoring his surroundings almost missed him. _Almost_ being the keyword: he had caught the man precisely when the emotionless eyes had detected their table. He quickly gathered his tablet, on which they were strategising just a few minutes ago, from the table onto his lap and donned a signature smirk. Midorima seemed confused at the sudden movement,

"Is there something?"

"Somebody entered the place. They are currently walking towards us."

"What? Who?!"

Before Takao could explain the man's pace grew quicker and he arrived right near Midorima, his gaze glinting with a newfound interest and targeting Takao straight on. His eyes were looking at Takao when he spoke to Midorima,

"Good evening Midorima-san."

Midorima flinched in surprise and turned to his side to see the newcomer and at the sight of the short man with icy blue hair his gaze turned very sour, lips transitioning smoothly into an irritated scowl.

"Ah Kuroko, there you are! Don't just disappear like that!" a redhead followed behind the shorter man rather loudly.

"Kuroko. What do you want?"

A peculiar coldness had diffused to Midorima's voice that Takao caught on and it only piqued his interest further,

"Always straight to the point. I would like to think that you know very well why I am here."

Shorter man turned to his much larger partner, Takao was analysing the duo thoroughly in the meantime; reddish brunette was very tall though definitely shorter than Midorima, his appearance was messy compared to the prim and proper bluenette. As soon as his partner had faced him, the taller one brought out some pictures from his pocket, Takao could see the patterns of callouses on his hands, considering how athletic his body was it was likely that he played a sport. The fact that they reacted to each other in simple gestures so smoothly proved that they were a very efficient pair. Takao's mind was already busy with calculations and queries, and based on Midorima's gaze it seemed as though he did not know the redhead, which meant that he was acquainted only with the short man whose lack of a presence almost made him feel like a ghost. What had Midorima called him? Kuroko. Was it his first name or surname? Probably a surname, Takao thought.

Kuroko took the pictures from his partner's hand and threw them to their table casually. Photographs of the last two hits they had done in Osaka. Takao felt his breath hitch but controlled his own body to the best of his abilities to not give any hint of a disturbance, it seemed to work. Midorima, on the other hand, looked perfectly unperturbed to the point that Takao wondered was he acting or did he just not feel anything in regards to cold blooded murder... Well, after all, he had been the one who had committed them.

"It is not good manners to show such filthy images when others are eating or drinking."

"I thought it would be all right since they are your doing."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Long range shots with an M40. In Osaka of all places. There are not that many professionals who would hunt yakuza with such precision and technique."

"And your presumption is?"

"That you did it. Obviously. You killed these men."

"Quite wild conjectures without any proof. Obviously."

"Perhaps. I still wanted to give you a chance to confess I guess."

"I did not know Osaka was in your jurisdiction in the first place."

"Oh, it is not, your sarcasm would be right in that. Tokyo is though."

Kuroko smiled and there was an unholy aura in the smile, though the man had almost boyish and rather pretty features and the smile of an angel, his eyes did not have even a speck of emotion in them; if eyes were indeed windows into one's soul, his soul seemed to be covered in a formidable mist of absolute unknown. It looked twisted. When Takao turned his gaze from this new obvious enemy to his partner, he found Midorima glaring back at Kuroko. It was unexpected, it seemed even the stoic face and manners of Midorima proved no match for their new opponent. Takao thought this was the cue for him.

"Takao Kazunari, by the way. Kuroko-san?"

Chilling gaze turned to him then and the blue hues flickered for a split second in interest,

"Kuroko Tetsuya. Tokyo Metropolitan Police. Organised Crime Unit. This is my partner, Kagami Taiga."

"Oh, nice to meet you both! Takao Kazunari, as I said. I am Shin-chan's partner."

Midorima's glare turned to target Takao then but Takao knew he had done the right move the moment Kuroko's previously much confident face slowly warped into confusion,

"_Shi... Shin-chan_? _Partner_?"

"Yes. Surprising, isn't it? He is not the best adept to teamwork, I know. But we make it work somehow."

"This is... quite surprising, indeed."

"You two seem to know each other rather well though considering how Shin-chan did not dismiss you so easily as he does with almost everyone. To be honest even get him to properly glare at me took a whole week of effort on my part. One also wonders, Kuroko-san, how does a respected police officer like you actually knows Shin-chan?"

"Are you saying that I am not respectable Takao?"

"Oh Shin-chan, you are respectable, very much indeed, but I don't think in the same context as the police."

Kuroko's lips curved into a smile again and he sat down at the chair seated between the bickering pair,

"We used to work together."

"Oh, so perhaps you are not much respectable either... after all?"

"Oi! Watch what you are saying!"

Takao leaned a little in his chair and donned a confident smirk, sizing up Kagami for a moment then turning back to Kuroko,

"Your partner is rather overprotective. Isn't it hard to take care of a tiger as a pet?"

Kuroko chuckled at that while Kagami's face flared and he leaned forward but any potential mess he could cause was prevented when Kuroko raised his hands towards his partner, signing him to stop casually and politely,

"He cannot endure teasing much."

"Strange. You seemed to me like the type who would like to tease..."

"You are a very interesting person Takao-san. I never thought Midorima would ever have a partner. And someone like you? Very unexpected."

"And that is precisely why you may need to revise your... expectations. Regarding Osaka and beyond."

"Is that so?"

"That is so."

Kuroko nodded though a certain interrogative expression ruled his face and then turned to Midorima,

"It is certainly not like you to have a partner... But I wouldn't think you have changed much. I said this before but none of you listened to me, I hope you listen to me now that I am in my current position. We looked too deep and for too long into the abyss. We need redemption, the most. Akashi will need to understand this first and foremost, that others lives' are not chess pieces for us to play with. The only way to show him this, it seems is to defeat him and thus I will have to defeat him. Do not get in my way Midorima-kun. I will not be defeated this time."

Midorima simply continued to glare at his old friend, it seemed that the sterile yet precisely pronounced words of threat had not fazed him even a little bit. Kuroko stood, bowed a short and silent farewell and stepped away, his partner followed him though with a savage rage in his eyes radiating back to them as he glared over his shoulder.

After a few seconds of silence Takao could not stand it anymore:

"So, who is Kuroko Tetsuya? I did not know you worked with anyone other than the squad under Akashi... And he knows Akashi too, but he was one of you guys... I have not heard of him."

"He worked with us. He was the little known sixth man; the phantom..."

Midorima paused for a second and lifted his cup of already cold cappuccino and sipped from the drink that tasted bitter and bland, its warm enticing aroma long gone... The taste only further soured his expression before he spoke the next words,

"Akashi's favourite."


	6. Chapter 6

(_**A/N:**__ I am not much fond of the early parts of this chapter but I like how it wrapped up around the end. Also, it is my headcanon that -regardless of the AU- adult Takao's favourite drink are Midori cocktails._)

* * *

"So... You're not going to tell me what his super powers are?"

"Shut up, Takao."

"Come on. It is simply perplexing to hear that there was one more man in the legendary crew of Akashi-sama but somehow almost nobody heard of him."

"It was deliberate."

"Huh? You mean you guys deliberately hid him?"

"No, it was a result of Kuroko's deliberate occupation and role within the group."

"I don't get this... Why can't you just tell me?"

"I do not want to talk about this. We have work now."

"Yeah, 'work', such _troublesome_ work! We are chasing some nobodies in bloody Fukuoka..."

"Fukuoka is the sixth largest city of Japan in terms of population."

"Well thank you, Shin-chan the Walking Wikipedia. It is no Tokyo you know."

"We left Tokyo because you literally begged to."

"Obviously! How could we proceed with our plans right now in Tokyo considering Kuroko's challenge? We have to re-do everything..."

"We could have proceeded as we had planned. He is not somebody that can ever be a threat to us."

The distinction of "us" instead of "me" softened Takao's wilfulness a little; Midorima was getting used to being a team by now and they felt more comfortable with each other. Midorima's growing trust was a good contribution to his own future endeavours against the greenhead. Regardless, Takao was keen about the decision he made:

"I am telling you, according to the investigation I did after his little stunt, he has already arrested Kise once and let him go under very suspicious circumstances. People say Kise went under right after, no other news from him. And he is usually the loudest of you all."

"He is also the least talented of us all."

"I would not necessarily say so. I mean wasn't he the last one to join you guys? You were pure child soldiers from what I understand but he got into our line of work in his teens. It is simply horrifying to know that he was still as skilled to even be a part of you guys right away..."

"You know quite a bit, don't you..."

"Well, I've been collecting information and investigating your lot for years... to kill you, you know. It is only expected that I know. Though after much analysis I believe Kise did not have much to do with what happened with my family. I put it likely that neither him nor Murasakibara were even there."

Midorima did not respond and Takao realised again just how much he hated Midorima's abrupt silences whenever the topic of his parents was brought up. He would have much preferred to have the man gloat the work he did. Now Midorima did not talk much about the hits he made as he was in general very serious about his assignments but there had been times Takao had gotten him riled up enough to get him arrogantly praise some of his hits. Never that of his parents though. Why was Takao so adamant about opening the subject? Was he a masochist? Or was he still trying to gather further information to piece together that night into a whole? And was that needed at all? He knew the culprits. And he knew very well what to do with them. Perhaps he wanted to hate Midorima even more, grow more poisonous flowers out of the deeply seated feelings and obsession he held for the emerald eye killer.

A sigh escaped his lips into the little microphone and he shook his head to dispel the unpleasant thoughts away.

"So, you are the most skilled sharpshooter anybody has ever seen, especially with long range weaponry; Kise is the ultimate copycat who is able to imitate any modus operandi perfectly and if not enough he is extremely charming and fit; Aomine is a beast with almost superhuman strength and agility, an expert of hand to hand combat as well as close range weaponry; Murasakibara is well... a giant, muscle of the group basically, sheer blunt force and power. Akashi, obviously the mastermind."

"We are not a series of tropes or manga characters Takao."

"Well, you have to admit that you kind of are..."

Midorima just sighed and Takao was relentless,

"Come on, just who Kuroko was? What was his role?"

"Our target will arrive to the position in 10 minutes."

"Which means that you have 10 minutes to tell me what Kuroko did?"

"Will you not shut up?"

"My my Shin-chan, you are smart enough to already know that I will not shut up until you tell me."

Another loud sigh and then noise of small movements; was Midorima flexing his muscles? He sometimes did so before the work and also if irritated. Takao wondered just how much he had pushed Midorima, though by now he had a fairly good idea of Midorima's limits he still forgot to abide them now and then. The results were usually very unpleasant.

"How were you able to tell that he had entered... that he was around, that last time?"

"Huh?"

"How did you catch his presence?"

"What do you mean how? You know my skill, I am always aware of my surroundings. I always ensure that I can see any and all threats with my periphery and I can make calculations of positions of objects and people... My sight is extremely acute and perfect, it's almost as if I am a hawk."

Midorima sighed,

"It is interesting..."

"My eyesight?"

"No. Well, yes. Maybe. It is interesting that you were able to catch Kuroko's presence."

"What do you mean by that?"

"That is his speciality. He has naturally very little presence. He can blend in with the crowd extremely well and is highly trained in the arts of camouflage. He is also a keen observer..."

"Hmm... that does not sound very exciting to be honest."

"It is not. Especially by itself, it is quite useless. In a team though it can be very useful. He can assist a lot in terms of reconnaissance and coordination as well as a joker. You can embed him anywhere you like, he will ensure to go unnoticed."

"Hmm... Is that how you guys used him?"

"Pretty much. Though his stamina was very weak and his combat skills were terrible. He was paired with Aomine."

"What? Why?"

"Precisely because they complemented each other... well, not so much in terms of personality but in terms of ability and passion. Aomine is good in close combat and has almost endless stamina, but he is an idiot. He cannot observe his opponents properly, he cannot analyse situations properly nor does he bother to. He jumps on instinct. Together they made an effective duo; Kuroko would observe, provide intelligence and assistance right in the field while Aomine executed the actual hits."

"What happened?"

"Why do you ask that?"

"It is obvious that he is bitter to you... Especially to Akashi."

"It is... a long story. He was weak. His speciality was interesting but that was about it; we all surpassed him greatly as expected. It came to a point that we did not need him anymore. He became useless, to Aomine as well. He left then."

"Was that the only reason?"

"He had an especially bad falling out with Aomine and Akashi. It was Aomine who knew him originally but it was Akashi who discovered his ability and brought him to the team. He and Aomine had always been too emotionally attached to the... job. They couldn't endure it after a point but it played out in very different ways... Things happened that changed Kuroko. Or perhaps we changed... "

Takao did not remember Midorima talking so much before and there was a tinge of nostalgia in his words; though tightly veiled it was, spending day and night for months now with the greenhead, Takao had become very skilled in understanding the subtle changes in Midorima... Out of blue, as if moving on their own, his lips uttered;

"I am sorry."

Why?

Was he really, truly sorry? He was not. Obviously, he was not sorry. They were a bunch of killers. A bunch of criminals. They deserved way worse than that and Takao himself was willing to bring about worse than that onto them. However, the honest streak in Midorima's voice, the nostalgia each word emitted... He sensed a loss and for some reason it reminded him of his own losses. And he connected; he connected to Midorima in that common sensibility of loss despite just how ironic it was, as their losses were surely not comparable and surely Takao was not to blame for Midorima's loss whereas Midorima was surely to blame for his.

Why was he sorry? He should not have been.

"I... am not."

It caught Takao off guard completely and for a second he felt angry. Here, he had thought they had connected despite the insatiable rage and vengeance inside him yet he was denied. Why was Midorima playing the stoic again? It was obvious that he had missed... he had lost something. Whatever it was.

The silence was alien. Midorima had probably thought Takao would say something but Takao did not say anything. It was due to this awkward silence that perhaps Midorima felt the need to explain:

"I am not sorry as it happened for it was to happen. It was Fate. Each of us had different beginnings, Fate wished us to cross paths and we did and we... learnt from each other, I have to admit that much. Then we separated when we did not need each other anymore, when we had no use for each other. It is natural. It was meant to be so. One cannot move forward if they are stuck in the past. I... I will move forward. I have to move forward."

"Alone?"

"Alone."

"Why?"

"Because... Takao... ultimately everyone is alone."

Takao wanted to respond but for a reason the words mixed and collided in his mouth, he could not separate them in his mind, he could not utter them... When he finally opened his mouth with the hopes of making a coherent sentence, however useful or useless it would be, he heard it:

"The target has arrived."

The tinge of nostalgia now completely lost, the voice monotone and as though not spoken but synthesised by machinery, then a small sound of machinery this time literally, as the trigger was released and Takao saw their target fall to the ground enveloped in the darkness of the alley.

"Done. To the checkpoint."

"Roger that."

Takao arrived at the designated checkpoint half an hour later, though they could have spoken on the way and Takao often liked to chit chat on the way, he had turned his comm off rather uncharacteristically, wishing to ponder about the pieces of new information he had gathered about the legendary hit squad as well as Midorima himself. A specific point kept tugging at his heart though.

Why was Midorima so alone?

More importantly, why was he so proud and content with being alone?

If there was one reason Takao had hated these people, especially Midorima, for years it was because they had taken away from him the very people who had torn him apart from his painful loneliness as an unwanted child. Until he had met his adoptive parents, the idea of caring or loving another human being had been an alien thought for him. Perhaps that was precisely why losing them he had lost himself and all that he had; surely, he could have continued on with life, finish his studies properly, get a job, perhaps even marry and start a family. But the moment he had lost them he had been sunk into the deepest solitude again and could not find himself to be capable of truly caring for another person. It was not that he had become a recluse nor his social skills were weak, quite the opposite, he was a magician when it came to socialising. And he must have always cared for human beings at an ontological level; even if he had become a hitman, his peculiar "rules" with his choice of profession clearly emphasised that... He wanted to believe? So the solitude he had felt himself in and he still felt himself in at the core was not about superficial social relations but actually connecting with another person at a holistic sense: trusting another, committing to another, loving another, sharing his life and even death with another... Now that – that was what he had missed the chance to ever achieve. When he had realised the very people who gave him the capability for such feelings and attachments had disappeared, he felt he lost that very capability as well.

This peculiar kind of loneliness was the worst, for though his skin and words touched so much and so often with so many people, his soul never mingled. It was a travesty where mind and body continuously cheated on the heart and the heart had nothing to say but silently stare in agony. There had been times he had felt extremely depressed and surely he had many reasons to be so, number one being his complicated family history and current line of work, but one thing had always lifted him up and motivated him to carry on. And that was revenge. Perhaps, his vengeance was more for his sake than his parents. Perhaps, his vengeance was more to live than to kill.

He was idly thinking when he realised Midorima entering to the bar. Their checkpoint this time had been a bar because the last time it had been a bookstore and they took turns choosing; it was Takao's turn and he was sure as hell going to drink as much as he could before the second job in Fukuoka. _Bloody Fukuoka_, he thought again; they had two more cases here. Why were there so many Rakuzan connections here anyway?

"You did not order yet?"

"Nope, just got water, was waiting for you to start drinking Shin-chan!"

"Why would you wait for me? I do not even drink. You know it."

Takao snorted at that and turned to the barkeep who had now approached them,

"A Virgin Mary for my dear friend and a Japanese Slipper for me!"

Midorima gave a displeased look at Takao's smirking,

"You are being annoying."

"I just ordered drinks."

"I feel that there was more to it than that."

"Perhaps there was, perhaps not?"

Takao winked and thought silently inside just how easily he was able to turn his feelings and expressions around. It was frightening how cold he was inside yet how cheerful he could be outside.

Midorima sighed with distress,

"I am not your dear friend, by the way."

"Oh come on now... We even have nicknames for each other! _Shin-chan_!"

"You have a nickname for me, I don't have a nickname for you. And I have told you way too many times to stop with that stupid nickname as well but it is too hard to comprehend for your stupid mind, it seems."

"Ouch. Why so grouchy? You are usually relieved after completing a job."

"I don't become relieved. I am simply content with work done successfully, properly, and as expected."

"You are such a tsundere."

Midorima almost gasped at that in a mix of horror and fury and narrowed his eyes threateningly without saying anything.

"Oh God! Don't look at me like that. I'll be so afraid." Takao responded in a clearly mocking higher pitch and dramatic fake shaking of fake fear.

"You are insufferable."

"You know, just to make this clear, I am very easygoing and I can get along with almost anyone. It is you who is insufferable and yet I manage to get along even with you."

"We don't get along."

"Well we haven't killed each other yet."

"If I recall correctly you are keen to change that in the future."

"There is still time for that." Takao winked and Midorima gave him a suspicious stare for a second before returning his face to his stoic default. Takao wondered when had Midorima started showing so many other faces to him such that he saw less of this stoic face. Not that he wore it less in general, but it broke more frequently when he was with Takao.

When their drinks arrived Midorima tasted his and then gave Takao's drink a look then a glare at the man himself,

"What is that?"

"It is a Japanese Slipper. I am quite fond of it, I would offer you to take a sip but you probably would reject, right?"

"You know I do not drink alcohol. It is..."

"It is what?"

"Never mind."

Takao held back a giggle hardly and almost off-handedly commented,

"Well there is _Midori _in it, so the colour is as such..."

"Huh?"

Takao chuckled and Midorima sighed tiredly turning back to his own drink. A silence engulfed them even though it was not a true silence per se; the bar was bustling, background music gobbled up by chatters of various volumes, silent gossips and loud cheers. A few minutes into their particular silence despite the bar's noise, and a few sips into his drink, Takao rolled off his lips the last thing he thought he would; the words just naturally came out as if something inside him had kicked them out abruptly:

"I understand you... About being alone. You know."

Midorima did not answer nor did he even change his position to face Takao, he simply stopped drinking and started staring at his drink instead.

"You are overestimating yourself."

"Yes, perhaps I could never be as arrogant as you are after all. But truthfully, I understand. I am like that too, in a sense I'd like to think. Most in our line of work is, probably."

"Not all..." Midorima said almost in a whisper and perhaps unconsciously because he continued quickly in a different direction and tone: "It does not matter though. It is actually better to be alone and to be aware of that... It is all there is, for all, in reality."

"That's where we diverge, I guess. Honestly, I don't think it is a reality for all. I also think it is pitiful. I think we are pitiful."

"I am not pitiful."

"Yeah you keep thinking that."

Midorima bit his lower lip and Takao wondered why he had not threatened of violence or simply walked away; Midorima of just a couple of weeks ago would, probably. It was funny how they had grown so close... They were comfortable bickering and then randomly delving into the matters of their psyche so easily. It was especially laughable and ironic given their complicated history. It brought a bittersweet smile to his face and he could not help but mumble,

"For the time being though, this is not so bad either."

"What is not so bad?"

Takao simply smiled and chose to silently continue on with his drink despite Midorima's question and the confused gaze. He thought to himself, inside and made sure not to blurt out:

_Sharing loneliness, like this, just for the time being... This is not so bad either._


End file.
